The Missing Pieces
by TheAsh-Michelle
Summary: Emma always knew she was different. But, on the day of her death, she finds out just how different.
1. Chapter 1

It's impossible to pinpoint the exact moment I knew I was different from everyone else. I guess you could say it is almost like trying to remember a dream, you grasp for details, but you only get bits and pieces that don't quite seem to make sense. All I knew for sure was that I had been bound to her for eternity, and there was no escaping the events that followed the day my life ended.

I was twenty-eight when it happened, my untimely death. It wasn't the most creative way to go, but, I never really did have a flare for the dramatic.

Classic... twenty-something blind spot... crossing the street while texting. As I lay in the middle of the street, tasting the bitterness of the blood as it escaped my mouth, the driver of the car emerged in a state of disbelief. I knew that it was the end, it was just a matter of minutes before I drew my last breathe.

With those final gulps of oxygen, I managed one last request, "the blanket, it's on the couch."

Did I really just waste my final words on that..?

This blanket you see was one of the only pieces to the puzzle from the life I never knew. I was adopted shortly after my birth, and due to there being no record of the occasion I was given the birthday of the day on which I was found, October 23rd 1983.

The driver, a woman who looked to be my age, knelt beside me, held my hand and began to weep. Her pixie cut hair was black as night, and when she looked longingly at me with those soft green eyes, all I could do at that moment was wait for the end to come. My eyes shut and that was it, no flash of light, no lifetime achievement PowerPoint playing in my head, just the sound of the woman crying as it all faded away.

Then, as if a light switch was flipped from off to on, air began to rush through my once dry lungs, my eyes opened and I sat straight up as if awakening from a terrible nightmare. But it wasn't a nightmare, and I was not alive. I was standing on the other side of the street watching as the crowd gathered and the EMT's exercised all efforts to revive my already lifeless body.

As any self respecting person would do, I began to scream bloody murder, and then almost immediately ceased when I realized the effort was futile. Nobody could hear me, nobody could see me.

I was gone.

DAMN! This was definitely not how I imagined things would end.

The woman, who was just a few minutes ago crying over my body, now stood almost lifeless herself as the police pulled her away from the scene and questioned her.

"She just came out of nowhere..I..I, don't know what happened."

"Ma'am, I'm going to need to ask you some questions," the officer stated as if someone hadn't just been killed.

"What.. Oh yes, umm.. My name is Mary, uh Mary Margaret, um Mary Margaret Blanchard." She continued to watch with threatening tears just waiting to overflow as the tarp was pulled over my body.

Mary Margaret Blanchard, really, what was this, a Jane Austen novel?

"Ma'am, ma'am, could you please pay attention, this is serious, do you understand the gravity of the situation?", I was really beginning to dislike this officer. I mean, couldn't he see what she was going through.. She had just hit and killed someone with her car.

Wait, what was I saying, this woman, this Mary Margaret just ran me down, and I'm the one feeling sorry for her? I was in serious need of a reality check.

I was dead, reality check complete.

"Ms. Blanchard, we are going to need you to come with us down to the station, there is quite a lot to be sorted out, you understand of course?"

Still unable to pull her eyes away from my body, Mary Margaret nodded to the officer and followed him to his car.

The strangest feeling came over me, as if I was being manipulated to move like strings form a marionette, and I appeared in the back seat of the patrol car sitting next to my life ender. But, in all honesty I was the one who was responsible for my death, not this woman. I have no one to blame but myself. After all, my entire life has been nothing but my fault according to all of the foster families I've lived with over the years.

Mary Margaret sobbed silently to herself repeating over and over, "I'm so sorry." I really wished I could just hold her and tell her that everything was going to be okay. But, in her state of mind I don't think there was anything or anyone that could give her the comfort she so desperately craved. It was as if her soul was slowly fading away right there in the back of the police car.

After what I'm sure seemed like a lifetime to Mary Margaret, the patrol car pulled into the parking space labeled Sherriff. The officer exited the car and came around to open the door for her. She stepped out of the vehicle and allowed the Sherriff to guide her inside the station. Before I knew it I was inside the office with the both of them.

This mode of transportation was going to take some getting used to.


	2. Chapter 2

CHAPTER 2

Sherriff Graham, whose name I overheard from what I understood to be his deputy, was kind enough to not put Mary Margaret in hand cuffs. He didn't see a need, due to the earlier events appearing to be accidental. There was also the fact that he had known Mary Margaret for as long as he could remember, knowing that she was beyond incapable of hurting someone's feelings let alone killing someone.

Wait, how did I even know that?

Great, now I'm hearing the inner workings of other people. Just the addition I was missing to my already downhill day. What more was I going to have to endure before this apparent limbo phase was over, and I could "go to the light" as I've heard it said.

The Sherriff motioned for Mary Margaret to sit down in his office.

She obliged, walked over to the chair that sat opposite his and took the offered seat.

As he began the process of all the necessary questioning, something outside the station caught my attention, and I walked over to the window. It was a little boy, no older than eleven or so...

_**I placed the blue star candle into the cupcake I bought myself, closed my eyes and for the millionth time, wished to not be alone on my birthday. **_

_**A knocking interrupted that wish, and I walked over to the door opening it to find a little brown haired boy telling me that he was my son.**_

Like a ton of bricks falling from the sky and crushing every bone in my body, it all came rushing back to me. I crouched down and collapsed on the ground in the fetal position clutching my chest... My heart….. THE PAIN!

I had a _so_n.. A son! Henry!

I remember! It was Henry I was texting. I was supposed to meet him at the diner in town for breakfast. I was only to stay a week in this place, this Storybrooke, Maine. All Henry wanted was to get to know me and all I'd done since the minute he showed up at my door was push him away. The wall I had spent my whole life constructing with intricately woven brick patterns not a soul on earth could break through, was the only thing standing between me and the rest of the world. With my body lying on a cold metallic slab, and my spirit stuck somewhere between whatever this place was and death, there now stood no chance of anyone breaking down that wall.

I stood up and watched as he walked; backpack slung over one shoulder without a care in the world, into the diner where we were to meet. His wait might be slightly longer than he had anticipated.

Mary Margaret emerged from the Sheriffs office, head hanging low. It was as though I was watching her walk in slow motion, like I could see every thought racing through her mind resting on her shoulders, weighing her down.

With her car now impounded, Mary Margaret departed the station and looked left, then looked right, unsure of which way to go. She turned right and made her way down the street. I followed.

Gravity was no match for the magnetic pull that kept me in tow behind her.

Ascending the stairs to her apartment above the street level bakery, was a task requiring energy that Mary Margaret no longer possessed. Feeling as though her legs were to give out she missed the next step and fell, bruises already forming on her shins. There she sat, contemplating her next move.

I couldn't help but feel for her. What that feeling was however, I've yet to understand. It was a mixture of fear and misery all wrapped up, tied with a bow of confusion.

She pulled herself back up to the upright position, grabbed the railing and forced herself to continue to the landing in front of her doorstep. Unlocking the door, she staggered into her home completely incapable of focusing on anything but crawling into bed. She allowed the pain in the form of her tears, pull her into the dark abyss that grew wider with every breathe she took.

Although it seemed as though time had stopped, within minutes Mary Margaret's breathing evened out and her gut-wrenching sobs subsided. She had finally fallen asleep. But as her luck would have it, a not so peaceful slumber was in store for the young woman.

With nothing more than the sound of a light breeze, I was transported to a room not belonging to Mary Margaret. This room was dark, eerily dark. The only light was coming from a small crevice so perfectly placed to shine on the figure that was crouched in the corner, staring right at me.

It took only seconds to register who the woman was with the porcelain face and somber emerald eyes.

"Wh..Who are you?" Mary Margaret asked in complete confusion.

Oddly enough I turned to look behind me just to be sure that I was the one being spoken to.

"You can see me?" I asked, praying that the answer was yes.

"Of course I can see you. What is this place? Who are you? What is going on? Absolute bewilderment was seeping from her eyes.

Before I could open my mouth with a response, cacophonies of chaotic flashes from the events earlier in the day were being played right before my eyes.

Mary Margaret let out the most shrilling cry I've ever heard. I realized that I was not alone. I was witnessing the very same nightmare in which she was deeply submerged.

Like an uneven groove in a record, the flight of my small frame through the air skipped over and over until it hit the ground and landed in such a way, that the most skilled of contortionists wouldn't dare to attempt.

Without cause, the windowless room began to spin with fury reserved for only the deadliest of storms. Images flashed of a woman holding what appeared to be a newborn baby. In an instant the baby was gone and alone the woman cried in agony over the emptiness of her arms. A man had taken the baby, left the room and disappeared. The room began to spin again; the images continued… it was hard to focus on anything in particular. I saw the man who took the baby lying on the ground, wounded, bleeding. Yet, his eyes… there was something about his eyes, they were so familiar. The spinning continued, but this time it stopped back in Mary Margaret's room.

Mary Margaret shot up in a cold sweat and nearly fell out of her bed. Frightened beyond belief, she burst back into the sobs that consumed her before the nightmare had begun.

I stood there wondering what the hell had just happened. I also wondered if she could still see me. However, by the increasing sound of her cries I doubted it very much.

Even though she couldn't see me, I still felt uncomfortable standing there watching her. I made my way to the door, grabbed for the handle and let out a heavy sigh when I realized that the effort was wasted. My hand glided through the brass fixture like it wasn't there at all.

Great, just… great.

Looks like I'll be spending a lot more time with Mary Margaret.


	3. Chapter 3

CHAPTER 3

For the rest of the night I watched uneasy at the sight of Mary Margaret reliving her nightmare over and over. The night hours passed and the sun gradually rose to reveal the start of a new day. I sat in the arm chair beside her bed watching as she awoke with swollen eyes and tear stained cheeks. It took everything in me not to rush to her aide. Not that I could possibly be of any assistance in my current state. Although, ever since the accident yesterday I've had the oddest sensation of tingling throughout my entire being, like when your foot falls asleep and you stand there stamping it around, hoping to help the feeling come back. But, as much as I tried, I couldn't shake the feeling.

I must have been completely deep in thought, because as soon as I was brought back to reality, I realized Mary Margaret was definitely wide awake and wore an expression of the highest form of shock. Back rigid against her headboard Mary Margaret slowly slipped out of bed and inched her way to the corner of her bedroom farthest from my person.

"Who are you and what are you doing in my apartment?" Mary Margaret managed to breathe out as her hands searched for what she was hoping to be a useful weapon should she need to defend herself.

Wait a second… She can see me? Like not dream see me, but actually see me, see me?

I carefully stood up from the arm chair, and held up my hands in an attempt to show I meant no harm. "Okay, so you _**can**_ see me?"

"Of course I can see you, that's why I am speaking to you. And I must warn you I am very skilled in self defense and martial arts," She stated as she raised her fists in front of her face in a so _**not**_threatening way. "So I ask again, who are you and what are you doing in my apartment?"

Keeping my hands where she could see them, I opened my mouth to answer her, but I was cut off by a flying piece of needle point that flew right passed my head as I ducked to avoid it.

"Really?! Was that necessary?" I sat back down in the chair and crossed my arms. "Can I explain without any more arts and crafts flying at my head?"

"Okay, but stay right there where I can see you or I swear I will call the Sheriff in a heartbeat."

This might be easier than I thought. You would think that calling the police would be the first thing that popped into your head if you awoke to a stranger sitting next to your bed.

"Right, who I am, and what I'm doing here. Well, first of all, my name is Emma, and as for how I got into your apartment, well…I kind of came in with you last night when you left the Sheriff's station."

Great, now she's going to think that I'm a stalker serial killer. I mean seriously, who says these things. Not even I would believe the words that were flowing up like word vomit. I couldn't make this up even if I wanted to.

"So, you're telling me that you just waltzed right into my place last night, and I just let you come in? How is that even possible, I mean I would remember letting some complete stranger into my home." Mary Margaret stated in such a rush that she didn't even stop to take a breather in between words.

Raising my eyebrows and clinching my jaw, I whispered, "Well… not exactly. You see, I'm not a _**complete**_ stranger."

"What on earth are you talking about; I've never seen you before in my life!"

"Actually, you have. You met me yesterday." I answered with a matter of fact attitude.

Mary Margaret looked completely puzzled. You could see the wheels turning as she tried to place my face in the events from the previous day. Her eyes grew wide and she nearly collapsed to the hardwood floor when she finally made the connection. Regaining her balance, she crossed the room and sat down on the bed. "No, no… there's no wa- you couldn't be, I..I." She tried so hard to form a coherent sentence, but failed miserably. "You're her." Is all she managed to get out before the flood gates opened up yet again.

I never know what to do when people cry in front of me. I've never been an emotional person. I mean not really anyway. When you grow up in the foster system you tend to shut that part of you off. Unfortunately it's the only way to survive the years of abuse. I'm not perfect, and I will never claim to be, but the things that I endured growing up… Let's just say, that it's not anything any child should have to tolerate. So, I sat there and allowed her to take part in a personal therapy session; just her and her tears.

"Listen," I started, not really knowing where I was going with this conversation, "I don't mean to scare you, but, clearly you know I'm dead. I'm sitting here in your apartment talking to you and I'm dead." _**Yep, not crazy at all**_. "Okay, let me start again. I'm sorry for what you're going through, I really am. It wasn't your fault, what happened yesterday. The blame lies with me and nobody else. I was the one who wasn't watching where I was going. I should have never stepped out into the middle of the street without looking where I was going, let alone texting as I did it, and… OH MY GOD! Henry!"

"Henry.. What does Henry have to do with any of this? How do you know Henry?" She exclaimed looking up from the torrential downpour that was just a moment ago coming from her eyes.

"Henry is my son."


End file.
